Gaze
by yeahthathappens
Summary: He would watch her. She would glare at him. An assassin is sent to kill Arthur but ends up fighting for him instead and the heat of a certain pair of brown eyes is always upon her.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own King Arthur or any characters of the film. Jeong-Jun is an original character of my own imagination. I have tried to be as historically accurate as possible, but embellished some aspects for the sake of storytelling and fiction. No offense was intended when referring to any cultures or rulers of the time, including Hormizd of Persia. He might have been a very good king for all I know. I wasn't there.

Jun is from the nation of Goguryeo, which is now Korea. Inspiration for her came from the movie, War of the Arrows.

Respectful critics are always appreciated.

Enjoy!

+(*)+

Chapter 1

The mission was to assassinate Arthur Castus, the new King of Britannia, his barbarian witch of a queen, and if possible, his Sarmatian Knights. Apparently, Rome did not like when one of her finest officers retired from her service to become King of a land she had abandoned. A very high ranking Bishop by the name of Germanius contracted Jun, even though the assassin was a pagan foreigner. Jun did not care for the politics behind the missions, only upholding the honor of a bargain once struck. There was shadow assassin disguised amongst the merchants Germanius had paid off. This was not the first time Jun had been betrayed by an employer, but it was a tiresome routine all the same.

It did make sense that Germanius chose Jun, who was often mistaken for a Hun - enemy to Rome and Sarmatia. If a Hun murdered the King of Britain and Rome then killed said assassin for the death of their _beloved son_, no one would think anything of it. The truth of things would never be known.

Jun's truth was a homeland even farther than the Huns – farther than Persia – farther than the Eastern Dynasties. Goguryeo was a small kingdom compared to the vast Roman Empire, but it was the birthplace of Gi-Jun. Battle-hardened, the men and women of Goguryeo were all fierce warriors, from fine nobles to humble farmers. At the age of ten, Jun traveled with Jeong-Hwa and took his name for he was the only "family" available at the time. From then on, Jeong-Hwa taught Jeong-Jun the way of a wandering warrior.

He had made it sound so honorable at the time, but now Jun understood the reality of it. Hwa had been a mercenary and raised her to be one as well since he knew nothing of raising little girls. In Goguryeo, children were taught the basics of archery as soon as they could hold a bow. Hwa expanded Jun's knowledge of warfare to include sword play, grappling, and caring for horses. Along their journeys, she studied the languages and histories of the many cultures they encountered. Over time, she could even read a little Latin and Farsi - speaking both fluently.

The rocky shoreline of Britannia was in view, prompting Jun to head below deck. The sailors were already suspicious of their quiet passenger and it wouldn't help to be in their way while the ship was getting ready to dock. The time was better spent readying for the upcoming trials anyway.

Dastan was the horse Shah Peroz of Persia gave to her after Jeong-Hwa's death. He was small, like all Arabian horses, compared to the other beasts in the stables of the Roman ship she rode. His jet black coat shone in even in the darkness below deck. Large bright eyes met hers and Jun murmured apologies to the beast in Farsi, promising that their journey over water would soon be over and that they would likely never travel on a ship like this again.

There was nowhere to run. Rome would label Jun as an outlaw. Returning to the Empire would mean death. The Huns cast them out when Hwa insulted one of the higher Khans, and Persia was sure to be at war with the Huns now that Peroz ended his brother's reign and was new king. Jun almost felt guilty for leaving him, but not enough to stay and reveal herself as a woman. Even if she could make it back to Goguryeo without retracing her steps through the three empires, nothing was waiting for her there.

King Arthur was the only hope Jun had.

+(*)+

Arthur's reign was strong, but still young. Many did not feel safe now that the Roman army's might no longer protected them from the Saxons. Some even fled the island, boarding ships with Roman families back to the Empire. Then there were still some Woads who objected to Merlin's decision of placing a former Roman officer on the throne; not even Guinevere's popularity with her people was enough to sway them. A sense of apprehension waited beneath the smiles of villagers waving and saluting Tristan and Gawain as they rode through the southern port town.

A Roman ship was arriving today with gifts from Alecto – and supposedly that ass of a Bishop, Germanius, as well. Arthur chose two of his more discrete knights for the mission of retrieving them while inspecting the new fortifications of the southern border. British soldiers replaced the Roman ones after proper training. Their armor needed some work, as did their weapons, but there was pride in their demeanor. Both knights appreciated that.

The Romans were already unloading their goods by the time Gawain and Tristan arrived at the docks. Immediately, Tristan's eyes were drawn to one man. He was not a merchant; that much the scout could tell. The man stood off the side, securing a black pony – no, it was an Arabian horse – and ignored the other Romans altogether. Even from the distance, it was obvious that the man was shorter than most, wearing a dark blue Roman cloak over dark robes and pants that looked Persian. Black hair wound in a long braid fell to his waist. His subtle movements suggested that the man was armed, most likely with knives up his sleeves and a short sword at his back. Gawain noticed as well.

"A mercenary?"

"Possibly," Tristan shrugged without taking his eyes off the target of their suspicion. "Wouldn't put it past that Bishop."

Their suspect turned, having finished securing the last of his things to the horse. His features reminded Tristan of the Eastern Huns he had seen as a child in Sarmatia, only finer. Round eyes met Tristan's gaze with a hard stare, then shifted to Gawain. The exchange was interrupted when the Romans finally noticed the Knights as well.

"Salutations, brave heroes of Rome!" the finest dressed man declared. Both knights rolled their eyes, dismounting quickly. Tristan let Gawain play diplomat. He was better at hiding his disdain for the Romans anyway. Instead, the scout observed the other men amongst their guests. Only one other, a man dressed like the other two merchants but of too sturdy a build and with too precise movements to be a simple trader, garnered suspicion.

"Ghanis and th-the other are to accompany these gifts to see that they get to your King safely."

"What's that?" Tristan glared at the lead merchant before them. The silk swaddled Roman's lower lip quivered.

"It is as my lords insisted, as a show of good faith."

"Our King gives his thanks," Gawain cut off his companion before a skirmish broke out. "You will wait a week here for their return?"

"Alas," the Roman swallowed deeply, but was able to continue, "We only remain here for two nights. There are passengers eager to return to the Empire. Another vessel will arrive in two week's time – before the season turns, I assure you – for them."

Tristan ignored them after that. Ghanis approached with a cart, but the scout paid him no mind. He kept his eyes trained on the even gaze of the yet unnamed man. He had not moved from beside his steed except to mount it. After a while, Gawain had finally settled the details with the Roman and Ghanis called for the stranger to join their party so that they might get on the road before night fell.

"A mute, I think," Ghanis joked, but only Gawain gave any sign of acknowledgement to him. This only seemed to make the man go on, out of nervousness. "Three months aboard the same vessel and he's not spoke a word to anyone – except maybe that dog he believes a horse!"

As the mute in question came nearer, Tristan began to have even more suspicions upon getting a better look at his features. He and Gawain mounted their steeds as well. "We'll ride until sunset and start again at dawn," the fairer knight explained. "That will get us to Fort Badon by evening."

"Your name?" It wasn't so much a question as a command on Tristan's part. The Eastern man nodded.

"I am called Jun."

An exaggerated gasp came from Ghanis. "He can speak!" This went ignored.

+(*)+

That night, Tristan left camp to scout and keep first watch from afar while the others prepared a fire. Ayn perched herself on his shoulder, looking this way and that for anything out of the ordinary. Occasionally she would preen her feathers. Upon his return trip, the knight came across Jun sitting by a tree quite a distance from camp. Immediately, knight and hawk were on edge.

"Why are you out here?"

The foreigner shrugged. "You have questions. I am willing to be truthful."

Tristan appreciated the straightforwardness of this man. He almost smiled. "Who hired you?"

"The Bishop, Germanius."

"To spy?"

Jun shook his head grimly and withdrew a large pouch from his robes. It jingled in the air and fell open to reveal gold. "Half now, in good faith – the other half if I return to Rome after Artorius and his bride are dead. There would be a bonus for every Sarmatian Knight I kill as well."

Now Tristan was tempted to laugh. "That Roman really didn't like us, did he?"

The mercenary snorted. "Romans do not care for anyone but themselves. The _fool_ is to kill me and take my payment as his."

"A shadow…" Tristan thought on it, but was still suspicious. "It is a fine story. You will have to tell it to my King. I'm sure he'll find it entertaining."

Jun nodded in ascent and stood to walk beside Tristan's mare as they made their way back to camp. "I have no intention of fulfilling my mission. Honor among assassins is very little, but I do not tolerate an employer's betrayal. Still, if your King deems me his enemy, I will fight." Jun paused. Her hand ghosted over the mare's mane in admiration. "If I am killed, you will see to it that my horse is granted to someone worthy."

In Sarmatia, horses were revered. Tristan agreed to the warrior's request without a second thought. "I'll kill you myself when I get the chance."

The foreigner smiled at this. It was odd to Tristan.

Back at camp, Gawain's fists were bruised and Ghanis was bloody and tied up. At the sight of an unbound Jun, the blonde knight tensed with his hand ready on his sword. "This one," he gestured to Ghanis, "claims to be sent from the Bishop and that the other was sent by the Huns."

Tristan tossed his comrade the bag of coins. "Roman gold for a Roman assassin."

"You dog! His Eminence would never-!"

"Then why didn't you kill him aboard the ship if you weren't waiting for him to finish his job first? Eh?" Gawain glared at the Roman. "Now shut up before I silence you forever! And you," he rounded on Jun. "You'll drive the cart tomorrow. Make one wrong move and you're dead."

+(*)+

Jun was used to being the smallest person in the room. Still, these knights and their king were intimidating figures to behold. The shortest of them was a burly bald man who grumbled a lot called Bors, and Jun was barely eye level with his chin. Not only that, but all seven men stared down with heavy suspicion on the mercenary, making her feel even smaller somehow. Ghanis was already in prison awaiting his own punishment. Arthur was still deliberating when a woman, who could only be Guinevere, glided into the room.

She was tall and pale with dark hair that flowed like a river. Her voice was just as calm and assertive as her appearance. Jun admired her for it. "Is this one of them?"

A knight – they named him Lancelot - with dark curls and mischievous eyes smirked. "The Bishop sends his regards to our Barbarian Witch Queen." The other knights chuckled and even Arthur grinned.

"Careful there Lancelot or I'll cast a curse to render you impotent. I'm sure the townswomen will feel relieved of your constant hounding," the Guinevere joked back. Arthur cut in, wearing a fond expression, before a battle of wits ensued.

"We were deliberating, My Lady, what is to be done about current threats on your life."

"Oh?" the queen faced Jun, who sat cross legged on the floor with hands tied behind the back. "And just how much is my head worth?"

"Sixty gold for you and the king, thirty now and the rest if I made it back to Rome, with a bonus of ten silver for every Sarmatian Knight I killed." Jun paused and observed the men around her with a neutral expression. She knew that she probably should have been more nervous, but times like this were what Jeong-Hwa had told her about - prepared her for. The enemy will look for signs of fear, lies and insincerity. They will not trust anything said in defense. All one can do is stay calm, answer honestly with straightforward assuredness, and conduct oneself honorably.

Bors laughed outright. "A little bint like you's gunna kill all of us? I don't know what's more insulting: that our price was so little or that His Holy Arse thought this little shit could take us!" The other Knights laughed as well, though not as loudly. Guinevere seemed to ignore them, however. She kept her eyes on Jun, looking the mercenary up and down thoroughly.

Finally, the Queen spoke and all else fell silent. "In Britain, women fight alongside the men without shame. I can imagine that your homeland might find such a practice distasteful."

Jun met the woman's gaze evenly, still giving nothing away. "You are mistaken, Your Highness. I come from Goguryeo, a kingdom far to the east that remains unconquered by others because men and women are expected to defend it."

"Then why do you hide your true nature?"

"I left Goguryeo as a child many years ago. Since then, I have lived amongst many peoples and this was more practical."

"You've got to be shitting me," the bald one grumbled. Tristan smirked silently now that his suspicions had proven correct. Perhaps he should have placed a bet with Gawain… The youngest of the knights - Galahad - seemed perplexed, but another – Dagonet - voiced the subject at hand for him.

"You are a woman." It wasn't a question, but Jun nodded to the tallest knight all the same. Then it seemed that not even King Arthur knew what to do with this information. So his queen carried on.

"Why did you accept Rome's proposal? What reason could you have for hating my King so much that you would kill him? What would you gain from bringing chaos to my country?"

This caught Jun off guard. "I have no reason to hate your King or your land. My reputation had preceded me to Rome. I took this mission because it was too good to pass over, and Germanius was quite persistent. I feared refusing it."

"And what reputation was that exactly?" Lancelot posed.

"King Killer."

The knight known as Gawain drew forward menacingly. "You expect us to believe that you are that strong?"

"What ya do? Get him drunk and in yer bed before ya slit some poor fool's throat?" Bors sneered. It made Jun's composure slip and before she could control herself she snapped back at him.

"Hormizd was an evil man! He was a shame to the Sassanid Kings of Persia before him and deserved the death I served him in battle after the horrors he committed upon his own people!" Jun looked down quickly, trying valiantly to regain the calm she once owned. Breathing deeply but without looking up, she continued. "My master and I fought alongside his brother, Peroz. He was a good man, loved by his people. I did not know that he sent a recommendation ahead of me when I left Persia for Rome."

"And where is this master you mentioned?" Guinevere asked, drawing Jun's attention back to the queen standing before her. The mercenary swallowed a wave of grief before answering.

"Jeong-Hwa died in that battle. I left Persia soon after." Saying this aloud made it easier for Jun, almost as if she found clarity in the words.

Guinevere seemed to understand as well. "I see. You came here expecting to die." The men shifted uncomfortably in their places with this revelation. The Queen stood beside her King and looked to him earnestly. His expression gave no indication of his feelings on the matter, but two rulers held a tacit discussion. Finally, a decision was made and Arthur nodded.

Britain's warrior queen gazed down upon the foreign woman bound and kneeling on the floor. "This time, I will make it a question. Jun of Goguryeo, did you come to my land expecting to die?"

Jun looked up to meet her fate with honor. "We all have to die someday, Your Highness. It is the destiny of man."

"Man's destiny is to live as well, wouldn't you agree?" Guinevere went on when Jun didn't respond. "Britain is a free country. If your master was as honorable a man as you suggest him to have been, then I doubt he would approve your giving up an opportunity to live among us and protect that freedom."

Arthur spoke now. "You will be watched, of course, and any sign of betrayal will be your death." He asked of his knights if they still had the gold from Germanius. Tristan laid the heavy leather pouch on the table for him. "It seems the price of a life these days is thirty gold," the King smirked slightly. "I have just bought yours from Rome and hereby give it back to you."

Jun bowed low until her brow kissed the ground. "Many thanks, my King. I vow serve you and your Queen honorably."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

That night, Jun bathed with deliciously warm water scented with the petals of native flowers. A maid named Lynn helped her into a dress since the clasps were too unfamiliar. Lynn gushed over how soft Jun's hair looked and offered to wash it for her. Jun blushed under all the attention Lynn gave her. The maid chatted away about the comings and goings of the fort, explained that a castle was to be built nearby in the spring, and of course, shared her latest bit of gossip.

"Mind you, I'm only making you so pretty so one of those Knights will take you for his bride and give us all something to talk about – I do love a good story. Ofydd's a harp player in town that sings the funniest little ditties! You'll come down to the tavern with me when we're done and you'll see." She didn't give Jun a chance to object. "There now, almost finished. Honestly, I can't imagin' you ever lookin' like a man let alone a soldier. How'd you fashion those bindings so tight to squish these apples and still manage to breathe? And this tiny little waist! No one ever suspected?"

Thinking of silencing the endless stream of prattle, Jun smirked. "Taking camp girls to my bed seemed to lay doubts to rest." She felt the hands winding her two thin braids in her hair still and when she looked, Jun saw the maid gaping at her.

"Well aren't you a saucy one…" Lynn murmured after regaining her composure. With a flourish of her fingers, she connected the two braids and smoothed out Jun's long jet black hair. "Come on then. Can't wait to hear what comes out of that mouth o' yours when you're into the cups."

~*0*~

The tavern was alive with music and boisterous talk. The feeling of being watched was immediate, but Jun couldn't pinpoint her observer's location. Lynn dragged her along to find a woman named Vanora who was the wife of Bors. It only took a moment to spot the woman; she was yelling at Bors with a toddler on her hip. The knight saw them and lit up with the opportunity to distract his wife.

"Well if it isn't our newest comrade, here to buy us round of drinks!" The bustle was instantaneous and Jun put her guard up for the inevitable bombardment of challenges and initiations. It was a practice she was used to after roaming from war campaign to war campaign and being around soldiers for most of her life. Now she only wished she had more than just the five small knives hanging from her belt.

Jun sat and placed a coin on the table. "I will do this once, but all others shall be won fairly from me."

Lancelot sat beside her and Gawain across from them. The latter knight called for Galahad to set up a target while the former spoke her. "A challenge, then?" he stroked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I do love challenges."

She remained impassive and looked the dark knight in the eye. "Keep your hands to yourself if you want them to remain attached."

Gawain guffawed and others around them laughed, "A woman that can resist Lancelot! I think I've seen everything now!"

"Just wait 'till she tells you what she told me earlier!" Lynn hollered. She carried a tray of mugs and jars while another girl brought over two pitchers of questionable contents.

Lancelot paid them no mind but kept his eyes on the target. He moved his hand to the small of Jun's back. "She's just playing coy, is all."

"A game?" Jun proposed, swatting his hand away. "If you can finish your drink before me, I won't cut off your hands. If I win, you buy the next round of drinks and give your seat to a more noble knight."

Lancelot grinned and set a mug down in front of her. Gawain counted and slammed his fist down for them to drink. The bitterness of warm ale hit her tongue like tar but Jun gulped down the harsh liquid and nearly broke her empty cup when she threw it onto the table. The tavern erupted into bawdy jeers when Lancelot threw his down in defeat. Jun belched and smirked dizzily when Dagonet gently moved Lancelot aside and sat down next to her. Even while sitting, the man dwarfed her. The top of her head just met his shoulder and he wasn't even sitting up straight, but leaning on forward on the table.

He gave her a wide smile. "I'm afraid that I may never see you as a Lady now." Jun returned his grin.

"It's only fair since I've never thought myself one."

"I can attest to that!" Lynn exclaimed over the noise. She had perched herself in Gawain's lap and wagged her finger in front of Jun's face. "Now you tell them what you told me."

A basket of bread manifested at their table and Jun bit into a roll before answering. In all honesty, she'd only revealed so much to shock the other female into silence. Now the woman wouldn't stop talking and Jun regretted opening her mouth in the first place. It seemed that she had no choice but to forge ahead and sleep in the bed she had made, so to speak. There was a chance that revealing pieces of her past would allow these men who regarded her with understandable suspicion to begin trusting her. After all, she had decided to stay in Britain and live among them for the sake of honoring her life-debt to Arthur and Guinevere. Her mind was made up.

"So eager to hear it again?" Jun downed another gulp of ale from her refilled mug. "Perhaps I'll give you a demonstration later."

It was satisfying to see the other woman blush and look away. Gawain frowned.

"What's this about?" he asked.

"My master, Jeong-Hwa, always introduced me as his son throughout our travels. To keep up the charade, I occasionally spent nights with a woman for pleasurable company."

Lancelot choked on his drink.

"They knew you were a woman as well?" Dagonet asked.

"I'm sure a few of them figured it out eventually, but the only thing they spoke of was how … enlightening the experience had been."

"Do enlighten us then," Lancelot all but demanded. It drew a frown on Jun's brow.

"I will not cheapen my fond memories in such a way."

"But how?" this time it was Galahad who drew nearer for clarification.

"Have you no imagination?" she countered and decided to change the subject after that. Having eyed the target set on the other side of the tavern, Jun fingered one of her knives. "A game?"

The matches were fun, filled with quips and jibes. Lancelot valiantly tried to regain his honor. Gawain and Galahad mocked each other while vying for everyone's attention. Bors came over and yelled and laughed but kept to the sidelines with Dagonet. Jun was proud of herself for being able to hold her own among men without Hwa around to act as her buffer. She knew that he would be laughing merrily in the afterlife if he could see her now.

~*0*~

Tristan watched them from his usual spot near the wall. Dagonet had asked him to join earlier, but Tristan declined. Arthur told him to watch the girl and he could do so better from a distance. Of course, the only thing about her that wasn't out of the ordinary was that her aim got terrible the more she drank. Although, she still managed to beat out Galahad.

As the night went on, his fellow knights took their usual women to bed. Lancelot tried once more for the girl and Tristan felt himself smirk when she rounded on his friend, declaring that she would rather sleep in the stables. She then took another mighty drink before comically storming out. Lancelot was about to follow but Tristan stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"What – oh." The younger knight looked back and forth between Tristan and the girl. "Did you want her then?" The scout rolled his eyes, not even bothering to respond, and stalked after the girl.

He kept the shadows, watching her stomp through the streets. She huffed and cursed after tripping over her dress for the fifth time, garnering the looks of the few people still out tonight. Two men, soldiers off duty, found the sight to be too interesting to ignore.

"Little mouse lost her way?" One of them asked. His partner went to her back.

"I am quite good with directions. Thank you. Good night." Her answer was succinct and clear, even though it was obvious she wasn't paying the men any mind.

"How 'bout you show us the way to your room then?"

"Eat shit."

"Now missy-"

The one at the front grabbed her arm and it seemed that even in her drunken state she was still able to move swiftly. She landed a powerful kick to the man's gut that knocked him down. His partner grabbed her from behind and Tristan was about to step in, but paused when he saw her tiny hands claw and the man's back. She kicked back to sweep his feet from under him and used the forward momentum to throw him over her shoulders. Of course, it brought her to the ground as well, but the girl was able to roll to the side and stand up quickly. Wasting no time, she picked up her skirts and ran.

~*0*~

While she was running, Jun decided that she hated wearing dresses. She hadn't worn one since she had been a child, and even then she tripped endlessly over the garment until the hem was torn and ragged. Unaccustomed to such clothing, she felt awkward and ungainly in it. Jun felt vulnerable.

Catching the scent of horse manure, Jun veered off course and ran faster, nearly tripping again. It took her a moment to catch her breath once she'd reached the stables. She rested her hands on her knees. Looking about, the enclosure was well kept and completely devoid of human life. Jun instantly felt safer.

"Dastan?" she whispered. The black horse heard her and lifted his head over the door to his stable. Jun smiled and strode over to him, brushing his black mane back. "Are they taking good care of you? Perhaps we'll go out riding tomorrow." She turned and slid down the door until she was seated. On the other side, she could hear Dastan settling back to sleep. He hadn't liked being on the ship and neither had Jun. Talking to the horse in the wee hours of night seemed to help them both relax. Sometimes, she would just brush him silently and meditate on her fate without Jeong-Hwa.

"Do you miss the desert, Dastan?" she asked. Jun knew he wouldn't answer, but she kept on anyway. "Things were simple there…Hwa made everything simple. That was always his way, I suppose. That night before the battle, I told him of Peroz's offer and do you know what he said. He said 'Do what feels right, and nothing else.' As if deciding one's fate was so easy.

"On the ship, I said that I was ready to die. We both had been so unhappy… but now… Arthur has given me a second chance and I will honor my debt to him. It's what Hwa would have done… and it feels right." Curious, Jun stood and looked over the door to Dastan's stable. He was lying down, gazing back at her lazily. She smirked just as lazily, resting her head and arms on the gate. "Then again, the ale here is much stronger than the wine in Rome. I fear I'm going to regret drinking so much in the morning…"

A twig snapped near the entrance and Jun's hand was at her knives. Her blade flew as soon as she saw a shadow pass over the ground. The thin metal sunk deep into a wooden beam next to the man's face. Jun recognized him to the Knight she spoke to in the woods – the one they call Tristan. He stared at her, unfazed, and calmly yanked her knife out of the wood.

"Ah," she mused aloud. "My newest shadow…" She vaguely remembered fighting two men before seeking out her horse. "Am I to be punished?"

Tristan's eyebrows rose to hide beneath his shaggy mane. "For what?"

"Those men…earlier…" Perhaps she should have just kept her mouth shut. But the knight just shook his head and frowned at her.

"You can't stay here all night. You're keeping the horses awake."

"Ah," Jun gave Dastan one final look. As she left, she was surprised to find Tristan had fallen into step beside her. He didn't speak and so she followed his example. It wouldn't do to embarrass herself further – although she didn't know why she felt embarrassed in the first place.

Still, Jun made sure to not trip over her dress while she walked. The task seemed to require all of her attention, given her drunken and tired state. It was difficult to focus on matching his stride while being careful of the now very dirty hem of her skirt at the same time. She would have walked into a wall, had the knight not yanked on her arm to pull her out of the way. And he still said nothing.

The moon shone bright tonight so she was able to see the smirk on his face easily. It annoyed her and Jun felt even more embarrassed now. So she just gave up trying to act like a lady and picked up her hem. "I hate dresses," she grumbled.

~*0*~

Jun woke up in the twilight before dawn, when many aches and pains made themselves known. Her head throbbed especially. She sat up in her bed and began to rid herself of the odious dress. A pang of guilt struck her when she realized just how dirty and worn it had become in the night. Perhaps Lynn would be able to launder it.

Thinking back on the night, she blushed. Britain ale was much stronger than any wine or liquor she'd ever had on the continent. Jun couldn't even remember how she arrived back at her room. What she did know, was that she needed to change out of this dress and get out of this room if she wanted to clear her head of its incessant pounding. Fresh air and exorcise was what she needed.

The only furnishings in her room were a large wooden trunk at the foot of her slightly uneven bed, and a small table underneath an even smaller window. On the table was a clay basin filled with cold water that Jun eagerly washed her face with. Felling a little better, she examined the contents of the chest. She was nearly brought to tears with relief upon finding all of her belongings within the trunk.

Her dress was immediately exchanged for loose grey pants and blue robe of the same light fabric. Lynn had left the comb from last night and Jun used it this morning to organize her hair into a single thick braid. After tucking the ends of her trousers into the tops of her leather boots, Jun fastened a belt with two long daggers to her waist. To say she was surprised that Arthur allowed her to keep her weapons was an understatement. He seemed to trust her. Jun retrieved her bow and arrows from the chest, vowing to never betray him or his people.

Dawn's pink light warmed Jun when she exited the building, in spite of the bitter morning cold. It helped to refresh her soul. She knew there had to be a training ground of sorts and figured that the best place to start her search for it would be the stables. A young lad was gathering feed for the horses when she came upon him. After polite introductions, she learned his name was Roan and that the field she was looking for was on the other side of the building. He gave her strange looks, but helped her acquire two long-range targets nonetheless.

The sun was fully into the sky by the time Jun had everything set up in the field to her liking. One target was set thirty yards out and the other was still another twenty-five behind that. The fort began to come alive around her, but Jun paid it no mind. The throbbing in her head persisted and she knew only one cure for it.

A thick marble ring hung around her neck from a sinew cord. She unclasped the cord and slid the ring onto her thumb. Pinching her first arrow between her thumb and fore-knuckle, she breathed in deeply and drew back. Her bow creaked slightly when arched. It had been months since she'd been able to practice, but the callous on her knuckle remained thankfully thick. A bird of prey screeched in the air high above. Jun released the arrow.

The shaft dug itself deep into the first target, two inches left of the center. Already she felt more relaxed. After calculating the wind's speed and direction, she continued. The next three arrows were more agreeable, landing in the center of the first target, and her headache was now just a dull memory soon to be forgotten.

A week passed in this fashion. Jun woke early and trained out in the open for everyone to see. She visited with Dastan and exercised him in the corral. She ate and drank – though never nearly as much as she had that first night – in the tavern with others. On occasion, she conversed with her stoic shadow, but they were never long talks.

By the early light of dawn, Jun was at her archery with two targets again. She let the repetitive practice lull her into a peaceful trance. And then an arrow that did not belong to her flew high in the air and landed on the farther target. Sensing the challenge, Jun smirked and drew back her next arrow. This time she twisted her bowstring inward on the draw before letting the shaft fly. Someone gasped behind her when the arrow curved around the first target and hit dead center of the second.

"I don't think even Tristan can do that," Guinevere mused, coming to stand beside her with a lowered bow. She looked easily beautiful in her pale blue dress. Jun bowed to the Queen, but Guinevere only frowned. "None of that please. I wouldn't wish for the men to bow to me, so I certainly won't allow such treatment from you," she asserted with a smile.

Jun found this confusing, but rose and nodded. "Good morning, Your Highness."

Guinevere smiled and nodded in return. "Show me that again."

It was an order that Jun accepted happily. She pulled another arrow from her quiver, knocked it between her thumb and knuckle, drew back, twisted, and let the piece fly. Its path curved and the point made its home in the center of the farther target, next to its kin. Guinevere hummed, clearly impressed.

"Care to break fast with me?"

A while later, the two women sat across from each other and shared fresh bread with cheese and watered-down wine. Jun was in no hurry to speak. She had always been a quiet person – mostly because she feared someone would suspect her gender after hearing her voice. It was an unnecessary habit now, but still a hard one to break. The silence only lasted for a few moments before Guinevere broke it.

"I admit that I'm curious."

Jun did not look up from her meal, enjoying the delicate sweetness of the bread rolls. "What would you like to know?"

"Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

"It is the way of Goguryeo."

"Tell me about it."

"I do not remember much," Jun admitted. "JeongHwa took me when I was still a child."

"JeongHwa was your master? Were you sold to him or did he kidnap you?"

Jun looked up from her meal, feeling shocked at the assumption before she realized her own error. "I fear I have not communicated clearly. Hwa was my teacher. He owed a life-debt to my father, but my father died before they could be reunited. My mother died with my younger brother in labor and orphans are not regarded well in Goguryeo. Two weeks after my father's death, Hwa found me on the streets and took me away, training me as father would have trained my brother had the baby lived."

"I see… But how did you end up in Persia? Why not stay in your homeland?"

"That, I do not know. I was just so happy to have someone that cared about me that I never asked JeongHwa why we left. He never spoke much about his past except to glorify my father in the one battle they fought together, and I never asked.

"When we left," she continued, "we traveled with the Huns for a while. I was fifteen when we moved on to Persia. Really we just went wherever there was war and a willing purse."

"All the while pretending to be a man."

Jun smiled, "No. That started after we left the Huns. A khan wanted me as his concubine and Hwa refused... After that he had me dress as a man, lower my voice and introduced me as his son."

Guinevere studied her. "I sense there is more to your tale than that."

"Your majesty is perceptive." Jun met her gaze but said nothing else, preferring to continue her meal instead.

Guinevere sighed, knowing that the woman before her would give away nothing else. She was intrigued by Jun - a woman who walked her own path in life. Someday, she hoped they could be friends - the way Arthur was with his knights. All of her previous suspicions were dropped when Tristan gave his report of last night, though Arthur still wanted the scout to keep an eye on Jun to be sure.

Speaking of her husband, the King approached their table with Lancelot at his side.

"Ladies," the King greeted before taking the seat next to his wife. Lancelot sat beside Jun with a smirk and she rolled her eyes, remembering, with a fair amount of annoyance, the knight's numerous attempts for her.

Arthur spoke first. "Reports are in from the northern settlements." He waved a girl to bring more food and drink. It was served a moment later with smiles and blushes. Jun could tell that her new queen was repressing the urge to roll her eyes at the serving girl's antics.

Instead, Guinevere asked for clarification, "Same as the others?" Arthur nodded but said nothing, so she continued. "Winter will be coming soon. It should put a stop to things until spring."

"And in the thaw?" Lancelot asked.

"We go hunting," Guinevere stated sternly. "Until then, we track our quarry."

"Our scout has another assignment at the moment," Lancelot smirked, eyeing Jun in a way that made her shift slightly father away from the man. "Of course, I could relieve him of his current mission."

"I'll go with the man to observe your enemies in the north," Jun proposed quickly. Three sets of surprised eyes met hers and she gulped down a sudden bout of anxiety. Speaking without prior thought seemed to be a recurring habit for Jun since entering Britain.

"Pardon?" Arthur asked. Jun kept his gaze.

"I apologize for speaking out of turn, My King, but," Jun bowed her head to show humility before bringing her eyes back to his. "But I would like to prove myself to you. It is my wish to serve you honorably as a warrior."

Arthur was surprised. As skeptical as he was of the woman's true nature, he trusted his Queen and his Knights. Even Tristan, whom usually had a very dark outlook on the world – especially the people living in it – seemed to believe that she was harmless. One thing Arthur was absolutely sure of is that if Jun ever did betray his trust, she would not make it off this island alive.

He looked to his wife and found Guinevere grinning slightly. He nodded, "Contact Merlin. Let him know that we'll send two scouts to the area."

~*0*~

Tristan watched the girl pretend that his stare didn't bother her. She secured supplies to her horse's saddle with quick, efficient movements, trying to pay him no mind, but he knew better. Having watched her for some time now, Tristan knew most of her ways. From the straightness of her back to the nimble grace of her feet, he knew her. He knew she was nervous of this mission.

Volunteering to venture into the wilds of a foreign land in the onset of winter could not have been easy for the girl, but from what Tristan had gleaned from his queen's smirk, it was done to escape Lancelot's persistent advancements. He didn't understand why she didn't just sleep with the man and get it over with. Did she not realize that all of her refusals just spurred Lancelot on? For having been around men all her life, she should know that many found the coy act to be attractive – and Tristan knew it wasn't an act!

After watching Jun for weeks, Tristan knew that she was a very simple being. She trained, drank and ate with the others; and for the most part, she stayed out of trouble. She never tried to escape or sneak away from Tristan, but instead sought him out if she got lost in the vastness of the fort. When questioned, she always answered plainly - not to mention, if anyone wanted to find out anything about the girl, all they had to do was get her drunk. Even so, she was still unlike any woman Tristan had ever known.

When she had finished securing her belongings, the girl turned, finally acknowledging his presence. She said nothing, but nodded to him to signal her readiness. Tristan led his horse, Eshoak, out of the stables and heard Jun follow after him with her stead. Arthur greeted them outside with final instructions. Then, the two were mounted and racing through the gates of Hadrons' Wall.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Everything was searing hot and freezing at once. Dull pain echoed through her body, but she didn't know why. Jun tried to open her eyes and move, but the world was too bright and someone was restricting her arms with their own. She tried to struggle against them, but stopped when she recognized his voice.

"Woman," came a weary growl, "if you do not stop trying to kill me in your sleep, I swear…" He let the threat hang in the air and Jun coughed.

She sighed, "Tristan." Her throat felt raw and she could barely hear her own voice. It seemed that she was resting against him, possibly in his lap, because she was able to feel him tense against her. This time, Jun was able to open her eyes. They were in a cavern of some sort – grey stone walls glowed orange from the large fire in the center. Tristan looked a little worse for wear and he stared down at her with curiosity and annoyance. For a moment, Jun saw another face, but the delusion vanished quickly.

"Where are we, Tristan?" she rasped. She was so thirsty.

He seemed to relax then, but shifted to deposit her body on the floor. She instantly felt much colder without his body heat. Tristan stood up and wrapped the blankets and furs they had been sharing around her tiny body. She watched him, patiently, while he went by the fire and poured steaming liquid from the pot into a small bowl. "This is one of Merlin's hideouts. He went out into the storm to find some more herbs for you."

He returned and put the bowl to her lips. She drank, nearly choking on the acrid taste, but was able to get the thick liquid down. When she was done, Tristan put the bowl down and settled under the blankets next to her, resting his back against the stone wall. She tried not to blush when he touched her face gently and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Hopefully he would attribute the pinkness in her cheeks to the fever.

"I apologize," she whispered. "I wanted to assist you on this mission, but have burdened you with my illness instead."

Tristan shrugged. "You fought well and killed eight of them. We didn't know the blades were laced with poison until you fell off your horse."

"Dastan? Where is he?"

"In the outer cavern, with the other animals. He is unharmed."

"Thank you." She tried to remember a battle but the last thing she could recall was the journey to Cruarch at the onset of the mission. She told him as much.

"That was over a week ago," he said with a frown.

A week. A week had passed and she could recall nothing, just the darkness of sleep. Trying to force the memories made her head ache even more. But something else was odd. "You said I tried to kill you..."

She didn't dare look at him, but felt his nod. "You called me Valek, among other things, and spoke Hunnish and Farsi … and a lot of gibberish."

Jun looked at him then. Tristan must have seen the shame in her eyes because he cracked a small smirk. "Quite the insult for you to call out another man's name while in bed with me."

"Why _are_ you holding me?"

"Your fever comes and goes drastically. Merlin told me to keep you constant with my body heat while the storm lasts."

"Storm?"

"A blizzard," he replied, closing his eyes. "It's lasted two days now."

She took the chance to observe him. To Jun, he looked more tired than she'd ever seen the man. His face was dark with rings under the eyes from weariness – although she suspected the blue bruise on his left cheek was from her own fist. The black ink staining his skin stood out to her, sparking her memory. She reached forth to touch the ones on his unblemished side.

"Do they hold the same meaning in Sarmatia as among the Huns?"

He cracked open one eye, and looked more than slightly annoyed, but he didn't answer.

"You don't look like him," Jun continued, retrieving her hand before the man next to her decided to break it, "but Valek had markings like these as well…"

"_You should have cut them off,"_ Tristan hissed the words in Hunnish. _"He didn't deserve them."_

She couldn't meet his eyes anymore. Jun had an idea of what she'd cried out in her delusional state and she had been hoping that he wouldn't have understood her words.

Valek was the Khan's eldest son – a prince. He was a loud and obnoxious man, but fought honorably and had treated her with enough respect that she had never feared him in her youth. But Jun had not known that he'd asked for her hand, or that JeongHwa refused. She hadn't known the drinks Valek gave her that night had been drugged with a sleeping herb. She did know that the tent he'd taken her to that night wasn't the one she shared with JeongHwa.

Her limbs felt unnaturally weak and he had been so much bigger than her. She cried and screamed and tried to fight back, feeling so helpless. It wasn't until he'd ripped the front of her dress, exposing her chest, that something within her snapped. He kissed her and Jun bit down on his tongue so hard that the meat of it came off in her mouth. Spitting the bloody mess back into his face, she kicked and clawed at him, but his hands found her neck. Her body began to weaken again and the lights behind her eyes started to dim, only to come rushing back.

Valek's weight had been lifted from her and Jun scrambled away to the far end of the tent, knocking over furniture and grabbing the nearest metal object – a cooking pan – to defend herself with. She froze, seeing JeongHwa holding Valek's bloody head by his long hair. Her master's sword was at the man's neck. Jun cradled the pan against her chest, dazed as she watched the beheading.

"JeongHwa…" Jun opened her eyes to the present, where she was poisoned and weak once again. "My master cut off his head. We set fire to the camp and had to escape to Persia."

"Peroz?"

She sunk further against his side, finding comfort in the weight of his arm around her shoulders. It warmed her and made her drowsy at the same time. She sighed, "A good man. He was kind, honorable and handsome. Peroz knew I was a woman, but kept my secret. Before the final battle, he asked me to become his third wife. I would have been safe and never wanted for anything." Jun shrugged. "I didn't love him, though."

"Idiot girl."

As they lapsed into silence, Tristan contemplated his current situation. Here he was, comforting a woman who wasn't his lover - treating her with care and gentleness he usually reserved for his horse and hawk, but never a woman.

It had taken them three days to reach Cruarch - three days of travel that Tristan had actually enjoyed. His companion was quiet and only spoke when necessary. For the most part they just watched each other, or at least he watched her and she glared at him for it. Honestly, Tristan thought he was having a little too much fun getting under her skin. She would huff and pout and mutter to herself in various languages. Once, when he was close enough, he heard her cursing him in Farsi, but he didn't let on that he understood her words. Let her think him the bastard son from a beast rutting a man. It was more amusing this way. When they reached Cruarch, however, all amusement was set aside for business.

The villagers claimed the attacks came at night from men cloaked in darkness. After raiding the armory and setting a few fires, the pillagers fled into the woods. Jun questioned the soldiers and guards of the local militia Arthur appointed to the area while Tristan searched for evidence. At the end of the first day, they were given lodgings in an abandoned home at the edge of town.

From the wide eyed look on Jun's face, he could tell she'd been surprised when he took the reins to her horse. "You go inside," he ordered, tossing her one of the larger packs of their supplies from his own horse. She caught it with ease, but said nothing.

After he'd finished unloading and caring for the horses in the small barn beside the cottage, Tristan found the girl preparing dinner from the food provided to them from the village elders. She acknowledged his presence with a simple nod of the head and continued chopping various roots and vegetables with her small, deft movements. The cottage was cramped but pleasant now that she'd had a fire going and a few candles lit. Furniture was sparse, only a table by the fire and two hammocks strung up on either side of the building instead of beds. He noticed dried herbs hung around the door and windows with dark grey linens stuffed around the edges to keep the drafts out. It became apparent to Tristan that the home was still unlived in because someone had died here recently and the villagers were probably too superstitious inhabit the building. He shrugged it off and set his belongings by the hammock closest to the door.

He was cleaning his knives when he noticed the woman sniffling. He ignored the noise but rolled his eyes and growled when the sniffling grew into full blown crying.

"Woman," he started to speak but she cut him off.

"I hate tasteless stew," she shrugged.

"No reason to cry."

She turned around to face him, hand on her hips. "You try chopping the onions!" She all but hissed and tossed her knife to him. Tristan caught it easily, but didn't know whether to laugh at or reprimand the woman for talking back to him. Her face was streaked with tears. Her eyes were red and puffy, as well as her nose. Her bottom lip quivered and Tristan was helpless to stop the laughter bubbling up from his stomach and out of his mouth until he was nearly doubled over. This only seemed to upset his companion more for she started cursing him loudly and quite creatively in various different languages so he could only laugh more in the end.

How they ended up grappling on the floor, Tristan did not quite remember, but he was certain that she'd started it. It surprised him, truly, when she'd nearly dislocated his right shoulder in her efforts. At length he was able to sit on top of her with his knees immobilizing her legs and the onion knife at her throat.

"Are you done, woman?"

"Are you?" A tapping at his side made Tristan look down. She had one of his own knives aimed just under his ribs. He could only smirk. The girl beneath him just glared and had it been any other female, he would have kissed her. But this was Jun.

He sighed, dropping the knife and he surprised her by wiping the tear streaks from her face. Then he rolled off of her and held out a hand to help her up. She took it and Tristan was struck by how small she was in comparison to himself. Despite only being tall enough that the top of her head didn't even meet his shoulders, Jun was able to not only get him on the ground, but also take one of his own knives while he was unaware.

They stayed in the town for only a day more before heading into the woods and it was fairly uneventful. Jun carried out her duties and followed Tristan's commands without question but he could tell she was still sulking. Tristan didn't know why it bothered him so much that she avoided and no longer muttered under her breath him when he stared at her silently. It just did.

The townspeople's lack of intelligence was also grating on Tristan's nerves. He wouldn't be surprised if it came to light that the farmers had stolen from the armories and reported it as a raid. The guards could be in on the scheme as well. Jun pointed out that no houses were burned or animals stolen, just weapons. If the citizens were involved with the rogue Woad tribe, Arthur would not be happy.

By the end of their second day in Cruarch, Tristan wanted nothing more than to leave the insufferable village and head into the woods to meet up with Merlin's men. Jun seemed relieved by the news and readied their supplies before nightfall. They ate what was left of her not-tasteless stew and slept in hammocks without another word.

Morning was better for them both. Jun bought bread off the baker while Tristan prepared the horses and they shared a quiet meal while riding into the woods. By afternoon, Tristan was able to discern a Woad path leading away from the village. They followed the way into the night before setting up camp without a fire. The rain wouldn't allow much comfort, but they had enough time to string up two waxed blankets across a pair of trees for shelter. Each took turns at sleeping, huddled in furs, while the other stayed awake for watch. There was no excitement until noon on the next day.

Not even Merlin, with all his dark magic, had foreseen the ambush or the betrayal. A screech from Tristan's hawk had been the only warning of an arrow in flight and the Sarmatian had just enough time to dodge the shaft aimed at his head. The battle was quick, only thirty warriors against their five – two of Merlin's men switched sides at the onset of the fight. The old man dealt them swift deaths. In his peripheral vision, Tristan watched Jun fire arrow after arrow – killing three - before being pulled off her horse. Two more men fell around her in quick succession and the knight admired her speed. She was near merciless, using anything within reach as a weapon. The woman would have strangled one opponent with his own hair if his comrade had not interrupted her. She did manage to roll away and pick up a sword before taking on both warriors at once. For his own part, Tristan fought with the same graceful discipline he always fought with. He took life swiftly and efficiently without guilt or shame. It was the only way he knew how to show mercy.

Merlin spat when it was all over, wiping his blade on a dead man's tunic. Tristan did the same and watched as Jun tried to right herself. Her left thigh was bleeding but she said nothing and acted unaffected. Then the raspy voice of that old man broke Tristan from his observations.

"This will be the last attack, I think," Merlin nodded with his own wisdom. The Sarmatian tried not to roll his eyes.

Jun walked over to them, eyeing the bodies that littered the ground. Snow had begun to fall and Tristan briefly wondered if Merlin would provide shelter for them. When she stood beside him, the woman lifted her head and met his gaze. "The Baker and four others from the village are among them."

Tristan nodded. "Arthur will not be happy."

"Neither will our enemies," the old man grunted. "This storm will get worse. They cannot care for their dead tonight. Gather your horses. We must leave."

He didn't like taking orders from anyone but Arthur, but in this case, Tristan did as he was told. Big puffs of white continued to drift downward from the heavens but it was the least of his worries. Ayn kept twisting her avian head back to see Jun bringing up the rear. It was unusual for the bird to be interested in anyone, but she kept an eye on the small female in their company anyway. Less than an hour into their ride, Ayn cried out, flapping her wings and digging her claws into the thick leather on his shoulder. Both Eshoak and Merlin's mount reared about when Dastan whinnied.

Tristan was off his horse immediately, cursing as he raced to Jun's still form lying face down in the snow. He didn't need to call for the wizard. The man was beside him in seconds, helping him steady the agitated black horse before the beast could accidently trample his master. Jun didn't so much as twitch a muscle when Tristan was finally able to lift her body from the ground. Her face was pale and the flesh was near frozen against his hands but she still breathed. Merlin inspected the wound on her thigh and cursed in Innish.

"Their blades were poisoned. Did any of them cut you as well?"

Tristan shook his head, "Only a few dents in my armor. Will she die?"

"Not yet… we must get her warm. You see this?" the old man ripped and pulled the fabric of Jun's pants away from her flesh. The wound was relatively shallow but ugly with clotted blood and puss. "The venom is slowing her blood. I know the cure, but I will need your help for her to live."

There was never another option in Tristan's mind. He tethered the Arabian horse to Eshoak's saddle and secured his wounded comrade into the saddle with him. The weather worsened, falling faster now – blurring the vision. Merlin set a fast pace that led them to a cave's opening after only another hour of travel. Everything after was near chaos. An old, raspy voice barked orders and Tristan hurried to answer. A large fire was lit. The horses were stripped of their woolen blankets and corralled in with the sheep. (Where the sheep came from, Tristan didn't care to ask. Later, he was able to assume this was Merlin's home, hidden in the earth. It was stockpiled with wood, blankets, tools, herbs, crockery and weapons.)

While the knight worked to ready the home, Merlin cleaned Jun's wound and prepared a foul-smelling brew for her to drink. It made Jun gag and thrash before vomiting and falling unconscious again. This occurred twice more before Merlin ordered Tristan out of the room so that he could bath her. "She deserves privacy and respect."

Tristan didn't argue.

This went on for days. When he was required to help, Tristan performed dutifully under Merlin's command. He wiped Jun' face and neck with a damp cloth when her fever ran high, kept her warm when she writhed with chills, and held her still when she screamed - manic in her nightmares. The old man treated her wound twice a day, fed her thin meals when she could swallow and cleaned her body when she soiled herself.

On the fifth day, Merlin was to venture into the storm for more herbs.

"They are easy enough to find, even in this frost." The humor wasn't lost on Tristan who just grunted in response. His lack of reaction made Merlin pause. Before leaving, the old man sighed. "Jun… Guinevere is fond of her. They are alike… and alone. Arthur is a good man, but good men are not always enough. Their goodness casts limits." Tristan growled, tired of the old man's rambling. Merlin smirked and shrugged, "Look after her. Keep her temperature steady with your own. If she wakes, make her drink." And then he was gone.

Hours later, Jun woke, lucid for the first time in days.


End file.
